


From the Shadows

by NightlyMuse



Series: Tales of the 8th Century [1]
Category: Saint Seiya
Genre: Cyril is a cunning man, Gen, Light mentions of past trauma, Sora isn't use to socializing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:25:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16067813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightlyMuse/pseuds/NightlyMuse
Summary: Pope Cyril is a patient man as a result of his position and age however his newest student is stubborn and needs a guiding hand to help him towards a better future.





	From the Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> The first drabble of a personal project of mine, Saint Seiya: 8th Century, featuring this time's Pegasus Saint and Pope! I plan to slowly add more drabbles from across the timeline I have set up, so expect to see more of this series! As always, enjoy, kudo and comment!~

Pope Cyril had found him, hiding in the shadow of a lone and broken pillar, glaring out to the training field with narrowed red eyes and hands clenched into fists. The boy had come into Sanctuary’s walls only a few months ago, along with his sister, their beloved Athena.

But Sora remained suspicious of everyone, never letting his guard down even when night had fallen. And while his need to stay close with little Sofia was admirable, it was holding him back as well. He could not survive as a Saint on his own.

Could not survive at all, not like this.

Cyril planned on helping the lad into a better path, it was his duty as Pope. The duty he had been performing for the last two centuries and would perform until these old bones of his could carry him no longer.

As he gripped his walking cane tight, he approached the boy from behind. Naturally Sora jerked when he was close, one fist shooting up and ready to swing at him before he realized who was near him. He blinked, dropped his hand into his lap and looked away.

The boy could never look anyone in the eyes, too much trauma from a life on the streets and the hate from ignorant people.

All because of his bright, red eyes.

“You shouldn’t have snuck up on me,” Sora spoke, voice low and posture tense. Like a cat, one that had been backed into a corner and was ready to attack.

Pope Cyril shook his head. “You know as well as I that enemies will not give you the same courtesy. And you know that no one here wishes you harm.” Rivalry among the trainees aside, Sanctuary had many eyes and ways of filtering out individuals that were judged unfit for Sainthood. If someone meant to truly harm another, then they would find themselves leaving their hallowed home.

The boy, however, remained unconvinced. “Don’t puts words in my mouth! I don’t trust _them_ , and I won’t. I don’t need to, so I can protect Sofia,” he said, voice low and full of hate as he glared out towards the training field. Cyril knew it would take years just to ease the boy out of his anger and open up to others.

“Do you now? Are they not here for that very same goal?” He asked, choosing to sit by his youngest student and ignore how his knees protested at the action. As he rested his cane on his legs, from the corner of his eye he could see Sora scratch his neck but remained where he sat.

A small progress, compared to when he first arrived and refused to be near anyone, or allow anyone near him.

“They don’t,” the boy huffed, still glaring towards the other trainees. “They want the armor, they want to fight, they don’t care about Sofia, not like Alexander and the others.”

“How can you say this if you do not speak and train with them? They are, much like you, young and just beginning to find themselves,” Cyril countered.

Sora took offense to that statement and snarled. “I’m nothing like them! Why can’t I just train with Alexander and you?” He ended with dropping his shoulders, the glare in his eyes had shifted into a sorrowful expression.

Ah, so the boy had begun to open more than he expressed. Cyril assumed that along with his older student, Gemini Alexander, Sora must had felt somewhat safe in the presence of young Capricorn Riven and Virgo Guanyin.

But they were Gold Saints, preparing for the Holy War to begin, and the Underworld’s residents would pour out to the surface. And while he knew they enjoyed having more contact with his younger student, it would be wrong to let the boy have his way and inflate his ego.

“Alexander is busy with his own duties and training, and I must direct my attention to Sanctuary, as well as aid your dear sister with her studying. You know this Sora, thus why I sent you to train among your peers,” Cyril answered and saw the boy frown.

“This does not mean you will never train with him again, young man. But you can not limit yourself with only one opponent, these other hopefuls will you give you a larger experience,” he added, gesturing with one subtle hand movement.

There was another part under this statement – the other trainees should find out the truth of whom Sora’s mentor was. Some would hesitate and refuse to fight him. But others, those with stronger minds, would likely challenge him in a way to prove themselves. To prove that they had the potential to be Saints.

To fuel those souls and push them to train harder as a result, that was another goal of Cyril’s. And as cruel as some might see it, through Sora he could complete two as once.

His youngest student fell silent for a short period of time before he squared his lifted his head up and looked back towards Cyril’s direction. “If I train with them, nothing else would change, right? I’ll still stay with you and Sofia? Train with Alexander?” He asked.

Cyril nodded, smiling softly. “I swear, nothing else shall change, my student. At least not until you get your Cloth.” And he already knew _exactly_ which Cloth would speak to his ancient soul.

Sora seemed to perk up at those words and sighed, flexing his hands and clenching them together. “You’re not going to drop this, aren’t you? But whatever, I’ll fight them and keep any weaklings out of here then.”

“ _That is not you to do or decide_. But go, train and improve yourself, and I shall see you when the sun begins to set” the Pope declared, standing by up with a quiet grunt and cane hitting the ground. Sora stood up straight and rolled his shoulders, nodding with a hard look in his eyes.

Perhaps he managed to fuel the fire in his heart some.

“Alright then, I’ll be up the hill at sunset, see you then old man!” Sora shouted, jumping down the high point they sat near and running off to the training fields.

Pope Cyril sighed and shook his head, there was no doubt of his age, but the boy needed to learn more respect. And perhaps while he was away training, he might make a friend or two.

A heated pain flared in one of his knees and he had to grit his teeth until it passed. He would have to see Scorpio Mahad about this pain and along with future arrangements, the years were counting down after all.

He only hoped he’d live long enough to finish preparation for that terrible Holy War.


End file.
